The Phoenix
by bethamphetamine
Summary: Set post TAC in present day, the Junior Gazette staff are just starting out on new magazine The Phoenix, with some added surprises. And just what has Kenny been up to in Australia?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

After the fire which destroyed the old Junior Gazette building – and once the shock of Lynda being found alive had abated - there were many meetings with all concerned about the future direction of the paper. This included Matt Kerr, Mr Sullivan, Bobby Campbell, Lynda and occasionally Colin, when he could wangle an invite.

"We feel it would be of far greater benefit to the community if the Junior Gazette returned to being a school-based project for kids in need," explained Mr Sullivan.

"But sir . . . !" Lynda began.

"In a moment, Lynda," said Sullivan. "There will be plenty of time for you to get your point across."

"Preferably without destroying any of Mr Campbell's office décor," added Matt Kerr dryly, noticing her fingers were inching towards the ceramic vase that had long ago replaced the ashtray.

"After all," Sullivan continued, "Don't you think you and your original staff members are becoming a little too old to run a paper which promotes itself as being 'for youth, by youth'?"

"I hardly think being in one's early 20s qualifies as being geriatric!" snapped Lynda.

"Quite," replied Sullivan with a smile. "That would put myself and Mr Kerr in the positively prehistoric age bracket."

"Speak for yourself!" smirked Kerr.

Bobby Campbell tapped his pen and stared out of the window, waiting impatiently for the meeting to end. He would have preferred to have been rid of the Junior Gazette altogether. He found it boring and a drain on his resources. Turning it back to schoolkids wasn't going to help profits, and letting Lynda and her team keep the paper wasn't going to be much benefit either, once the exclusive stories about "The Girl Who Lived" died down. His contribution to the meetings thus far had amounted to not much more than grunts as he mentally constructed a lucrative retail complex on the old Junior Gazette site.

"Lynda, we know how much you're determined to keep the Junior Gazette in a firm grasp," said Matt Kerr.

"Of course I am!" replied Lynda. "Look how hard we've fought to keep it going! I'm not going to let something as trivial as a fire stop us now."

"Or a near death experience, for that matter," interjected Colin. "Now if that doesn't just ooze determination, well . . .!" He spread his hands in a shrug and smiled benevolently on the group. If Lynda herself was determined to keep the Junior Gazette in a firm grasp, then Colin was even more determined to help her. Where else would he find a job where he would enjoy such a free rein (and such access to the books?) CM Enterprises was a good side venture but unfortunately, paying off people seemed to outweigh any profit made.

"Fortunately," continued Matt, "I believe we may have a solution." He left the office and returned with a silver-haired, distinguished gentleman who Lynda immediately recognised as newspaper mogul Robert Mayer – an old colleague of Matt's and someone she had enjoyed a chat with at a certain cocktail party.

After introductions and pleasantries all round, Mayer delivered his proposal to Bobby Campbell in no-nonsense terms by offering to buy The Gazette and Junior Gazette from him.

"But that still doesn't . . ." Lynda interjected.

"Now now, Lynda," warned Matt Kerr. "I think we should give Mr Campbell and Mr Mayer some time to discuss the proposition, don't you?"

Reluctantly, Lynda followed Matt Kerr, Mr Sullivan and Colin out into the waiting area. It was some time before Bobby Campbell appeared at the doorway.

"Deal's done," he said casually. "Matt, meet your new owner."

"But what about . . ." Lynda tried again.

"Ms Day," said Mr Mayer, turning to her. "Perhaps you will join me for a one-on-one discussion? Mr Campbell has kindly agreed to allow us to use his office."

Lynda agreed, puzzled. Colin made to follow her into the office.

"I believe it was a one-on-one discussion, Colin," said Matt firmly. Colin read the tone immediately.

"Oh, right! I expect they'll bring me in when it gets a bit heavier," he replied. "So, then! Matt! What's happening it Editsville down at the Gazette, eh?"

Inside the office of Bobby Campbell, Mayer delivered another straightforward proposal, this time to Lynda.

"Give up the Junior Gazette and allow it to return to a school-based paper," he said and continued before she could protest. "Then take the position of editor at a new weekly magazine for young adults. New offices, modern equipment and with positions available for all current Junior Gazette staff."

Lynda gaped.

"May I have some time to think about it, sir?" she asked after the power of speech had returned.

"Of course," replied Mayer.

Lynda did take some time to think about the proposal. While it was hard for her to give up what she had worked so hard for, the idea of being able to cater to a larger and more mature audience and the prospect of working in a colour format was exciting. She talked it over with current staff members in Spike and Julie and former ones in Sarah and Kenny. All encouraged her to take the next step and in the next meeting, she gave Mayer her answer.

"Excellent decision, Lynda," he said.

"And a very mature one," added Sullivan with a wry smile.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"The first thing we need to address is staff training. There are quite a few differences between working on a newspaper and a magazine. All of the current Junior Gazette staff who accept positions at the new magazine will be required to attend paid training courses for a minimum of six months, yourself included."

"Right," replied Lynda.

"We'll need to source a location for the office, as well as equipment, furniture and fit-out. I have people who can do that for you and you can be involved as little or as much as you like regarding fixtures, fittings, that kind of thing."

"Oh, I think I'll leave that up to your people," said Lynda, a little dazed. "Apparently my sense of colour and style leaves something to be desired."

Matt Kerr and Mr Sullivan exchanged glances. Lynda relinquishing control? How times have changed!

Mayer outlined several other things that would be implemented. Lynda was glad Colin was there taking detailed notes as she was hardly taking anything in. New offices! New equipment! Nothing that was second-hand or begged, borrowed or stolen from the Gazette office!

As promised, Mayer's people took charge of the task of developing the new office while the ex-Junior Gazette staff developed their own knowledge and experience on the training courses.

An IT department was created and Billy Homer took the position of running it. He soon became a fixture in the new office, instructing technicians where to lay data cables and determining where the IT hub should be. As a result, the new premises were definitely a lot more wheelchair friendly than the previous ones.

Finally, everything was moved in, assembled, plugged in, switched on and ready to go. Exactly 10 months after the fire, there was a ribbon-cutting ceremony outside the new offices. Lynda had invited now-Mayor Swanson to do the honours. It seemed only fitting that she should be involved from the inception of the magazine as well!

Robert Mayer was also present and made a toast to the new magazine.

"It is with great expectations that we launch this new magazine. I have been in the media business for quite some time now – yes, thank you, Matt, we don't need to know how long exactly – and I must say I've rarely had the privilege to see such a tight-knit group who consistently achieve such outstanding results. I look forward to seeing what they can do in this new format. Ladies and gentlemen, a toast to the magazine which has risen from the ashes. The Phoenix!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Phoenix staff were taken on a tour of their new premises, beginning with the reception area. A modern reception desk with the logo on the wall behind and a comfortable waiting area made them "ooh" and "aah" appreciatively.

"It's class," said Colin authoratively. "I mean, it just gets in your face and screams class."

"We've put in this switchboard too," said Mayer, pointing to the reception desk. "So you'll have a receptionist answering and screening all in-bound calls, except those to your direct lines, of course."

"Receptionist?" asked Spike. "As in cute, blonde and perky?" He nudged Frazz, who chuckled appreciatively.

"As in 50 plus, short-sighted and bad-tempered," muttered Lynda.

"At least she'll have a nice phone manner," teased Spike. "I'll just chat to her from my desk. Wherever that may be."

"All in good time," replied Mayer, good-naturedly. He led them around the large and airy open-plan office and showed them the various meeting rooms and department areas, including the kitchen and bathrooms (no more unisex toilet!) Finally, Lynda could stand it no longer.

"Where's my desk?"

"In your office," replied Mayer with a smile.

"I have an office? You mean, I'm not on the floor anymore? But how will I get people to work?" blurted Lynda. Mayer laughed.

"Always the editor. I think you'll find, Lynda, the position of this desk meets your needs." He gestured to the end of the room, where raised a few steps and completely fronted with glass was an office with LYNDA DAY – EDITOR on the door. Lynda entered and sat down at the desk.

"I can see the whole newsroom from here!" she gasped.

"Thought you'd like it," replied Mayer.

"Mr Mayer, thank you. I can guarantee, you won't be disappointed in the Junior – I mean, The Phoenix."

"I don't think I will either," he replied. "I've been in this game long enough to know a good thing when I see one, Ms Day. Bobby Campbell was a fool not to hang onto you and the Gazette, for that matter."

He walked out of Lynda's office, leaving the editor sitting at her brand new desk. Suddenly, the phone rang, startling her.

"Who knows this number? The office isn't even open yet!" she said, picking up the phone. "Hello, Junior – I mean, hello, Lynda Day."

"Ms Day? This is Joe from Beefcake Escorts. Your date will be arriving shortly."

Lynda smirked at the phone display which tellingly read SPIKE and then looked out onto the office floor where she could see the man in question lounging at a desk with his back to her, feet higher than his head.

"Nice try, Spike. Next time, use someone else's extension. And by the way, I can see you!"

She watched as he spun around to face her. Hanging up the phone, he sauntered up to her office.

"I wasn't lying, you know. Your date is here," he said, propping himself up in the doorway.

"Really? Tell him to come in," said Lynda sweetly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Lynda, are you okay in there?" Spike tapped at the bathroom door of Lynda's flat. It had been three weeks since the opening of the new offices and Lynda had grown increasingly nervy leading up to the first edition.

"I'm fine!" came the reply, followed by more retching.

"You don't sound fine," replied Spike with a grin. Lynda hated admitting she was sick almost as much as she hated admitting she was wrong!

"Stop lurking by the bathroom door!" commanded the weak voice from within. "I'm . . ." More retching.

Spike grimaced. Eventually, he heard the sounds of flushing and running water. The door opened a crack.

"Why are you forever hovering around bathroom doors, waiting for me to come out?" asked the green face.

"Oh, it's not just you," replied Spike. "I do this to all the girls."

"Why am I not surprised?" replied Lynda dryly. She closed the door. Spike heard her brushing her teeth and splashing more water on her face before she finally emerged, looking a more acceptable colour, facially.

"Do you think you've caught a bug or something?" he asked, following her up the hallway of her flat.

"Of course not! It was probably the Chinese we had last night," Lynda sat on her bed and pulled on a pair of tights.

"Hey! I cooked that!" Spike looked hurt. "It's your favourite. Peking-style chicken and garlic."

"Well, I'm not sick," replied Lynda, slipping into a pair of shoes. "I'm fine. And what are you doing here, anyway?" She turned to the mirror and ran a comb quickly through her hair.

"Uh, Lynda? I slept here!" Spike grinned. Lynda returned the grin, in spite of herself.

"How could I forget?" she asked, putting down the comb. "But you're supposed to be at work. Tuesday morning? Staff meeting?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Spike, sliding his arms around her waist. "I've been crawling to the boss. I think she likes me." Lynda smiled.

"Only because you're the same blood type. She likes to have you around in case of emergency."

"I can deal with that," replied Spike. "Maybe I should be put in a case behind her desk, with 'In Case Of Emergency, Break Glass' on it."

"I've often pictured you like that," replied Lynda. "Maybe not with a glass top but definitely a box."

"Lynda, we've talked about this. No more death jokes!" said Spike warningly. "I still haven't forgiven you for that wind-up after the fire. It's been nearly a year and I still wake up sweating."

"Oh come on, Spike! It was just a little joke. And Colin's fine now. The therapy has really helped him. I think it was long overdue anyway, to tell you the truth."

"I seem to remember an angry young lady once telling me I was the one with the very sick sense of humour," replied Spike.

"You must be rubbing off on me!" said Lynda.

"Well, I'd like to," smirked Spike. "But didn't you say we were late for work?"

"You are disgusting!" Lynda marched from the bedroom, down the hallway and picked up her keys and handbag from the hall stand. "Are you coming?"

"Not yet!" Spike said cheekily to himself and followed her out into the grey Norbridge day. Lynda was making brisk time and he jogged along to keep up with her.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Spike, I told you, it's nothing. I am absolutely fine," said Lynda. "Why do you always overreact?"

Spike stopped and grabbed her by the arm. "It's called caring, Lynda. You should try it sometime. Makes you feel good."

"I do feel good!" she replied.

"Don't I know it!" said Spike gleefully. Lynda rolled her eyes.

"Look, it's okay to be nervous," he said, resuming his serious tone. "I felt the same before the first edition of the Junior Gazette came out. You know, when my story - the one I researched and investigated and saved the paper with - was on the front page. You remember?"

"Spike, you gave me a copy of it for Christmas. Framed and autographed!"

"All I'm saying is relax, Boss. Everything will be fine!"

Lynda allowed herself a smile. "Thanks, Spike. I do feel better."

"You do?" Spike was back to his normal self. "Better let me check!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Kenny was enjoying Australia.

The landscape, the friendliness of the people and the weather had all been fantastic. A week snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef, a roadtrip to Uluru, sight-seeing in Sydney, winery tours around the Margaret River, Australian Rules football in Melbourne, visiting relatives in Brisbane, he had enjoyed every minute of it. He felt grown up, independent. For the first time in his life, Kenny wasn't the dock leaf to Lynda's stinging nettle and he was loving it. He also had come to discover the magic that a foreign accent worked with the ladies. Sure, he was no Spike Thompson but it was definitely an advantage!

After a few months of travelling the country, he had settled in Adelaide and found work with a suburban newspaper called The Messenger. Kenny had always had a fondness for the simple day-to-day items that make up a local paper. Things like Neighbourhood Watch meetings, lost dog notices, amateur theatre reviews and school sports results made him feel part of the community. The South Australian accent – noticeably more English-sounding than the rest of the country – made him feel at home.

Of course, he still missed his friends back home in Norbridge but with the paper now online - and Billy Homer having included his email address as part of the staff mailing list – Kenny was able to keep up to date with all the happenings at the Phoenix. This usually took the form of dirty jokes forwarded on from Spike, silly attachments forwarded on from Frazz, gossip from Julie and Tiddler and the occasional message from Lynda. Struggling with the technology (as Kenny knew she would be), he never knew when he saw her name in his inbox if it would be something meant for him personally, something meant for Spike that accidently got sent to All Staff or something for All Staff that accidently got sent to Spike (that he had forwarded to All Staff).

Early one morning, he checked his Yahoo mail to find a message waiting.

_To: Kenny Phillips Lynda Day (l. (none)_

_KENNY, COME BACK, THIS IS AN ORDER._

_LYNDA_

Kenny smiled and hit Reply.

_To: Lynda Day (l. Kenny Re: (none)_

_And hello to you too, Lynda._

_Please print out this email and retain for future reference._

_For IT support - that means help with your computer - send an email to Billy Homer. To do this, click New Message, then in the To: field, type Billy Homer. Type your question in the message body - try to word it nicely so there is some chance he will feel like responding - and he will help you out whether he's at home or in the office._

_Kind regards_

_Kenny_

After hitting Send, Kenny got to work on a story he was researching about a local council initiative and was surprised when his Yahoo inbox reported another message from Lynda had arrived.

_To: Kenny Phillips Lynda Day (l. Re: Re: (none)_

_thanks_

Typical Lynda, thought Kenny. Short and not so sweet. Checking his watch, he calculated the time in his old home town. 10.30pm.

_To: Lynda Day (l. _

_From: Kenny Phillips Re: (none)_

_What are you doing at the office so late? _

The reply was swift.

_To: Kenny Phillips Lynda Day (l. Re: Re: (none)_

_I've got 2373456374567384 articles to read by tomorrow and everyone else has gone home. Typical. Nobody ever stays to do the hard yards, everyone's too busy with their "family" and their "friends" and their "lives"!_

Kenny sighed. He wasn't really that busy, the stuff on the council initiative could wait a little while. He started to type a response, suggesting she email over a few of the articles so he could read them for her when another message landed in his inbox.

_To: Kenny Phillips Lynda Day (l. Re: Re: (none)_

_Thanks, Kenny, appreciate it. I need them back by tomorrow morning (our time)_

_Cheers_

_(see attached documents)_

Kenny stared in disbelief at his computer screen.

"You cheeky – presumptious - still manipulating from the other side of the globe. You are unbelievable, Lynda Day!"

He shook his head at his own naivety. Lynda was obviously not alone in the newsroom, there was no way she could attach the correct files so quickly without assistance! Suckered again, he thought. He should send the files back unread and tell her they were fine. That would teach her to presume he would willingly drop anything to help her out!

Kenny allowed himself this brief fantasy before he opened the first attachment and began to read.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

On the other side of the world, Spike was straightening up from leaning over Lynda's desk.

"And off it jolly well goes!" he said. "You did ask him if he would do it before you got me to send it, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," replied Lynda. "You know what Kenny's like. Only too happy to help!"

Spike eyed her suspiciously for a moment.

"All right, all right, maybe I didn't ask in so many words," she admitted. "But he would have said yes anyway, so why bother wasting time?"

Spike sighed. "Ruthlessly efficient as ever, Ms Day. Now where's my surprise?"

"Surprise?" asked Lynda innocently.

"The one you promised me if I helped you with your email?"

"Oh, THAT surprise!" Lynda grinned naughtily.

"I think I like the sound of it already," said Spike. "Should I close the blinds?"

"If you like," replied Lynda. "Unless you want to make it a bit more exciting by leaving them open?"

"I'm game if you are!" Spike rubbed his hands together with glee.

"Good. Sit down in that chair, close your eyes and wait until I come back," instructed Lynda and turned to leave the office.

"Hey, wait a minute! You're not just going to go home, are you? You know, Lynda, a guy can only fall for that one so many times."

"I promise I won't leave. I just need to get . . . prepared," said Lynda slyly.

"Well, all right," said Spike, closing his eyes. "Hurry back!"

Not to say Spike didn't trust Lynda, but he was definitely relieved when he heard her footsteps coming back into her office.

"Eyes still closed?" she asked.

"I think so," replied Spike. "Should I open them and check?"

"Not yet," replied Lynda and Spike felt something drop into his lap. Mind racing with all sorts of possibilities, he opened his eyes, looked up to see Lynda disappointingly fully clothed and then down to his lap to find a large envelope.

"What's this?" he asked. "Oh, I get it, some sort of role-playing game. You're the sexy postwoman and I'm the guy who gets a special delivery!"

Lynda sat down behind her desk. "Spike, you know I was part of an executive meeting this morning."

"Sure, you and all the bigwigs," replied Spike and then continued hopefully, "Is this part of the fantasy?"

"Can I have the attention of the brain above your belt, please, Spike?" Lynda asked.

"Okay, you got it." Spike sighed. Obviously he needed to work on Lynda's idea of a late-night surprise.

"Anyway, we've been reviewing and restructuring some of the staff roles," continued Lynda briskly. "Basically, what we've decided is you're no longer required as part of the general reporting team."

Spike sat stunned for a moment. "You know, Lynda, when you said 'surprise', I kind of imagined it would be something good. Not losing my job!"

"As usual, you're jumping the gun," Lynda replied coolly. "Why don't you look inside the envelope?"

"What is it, instructions on how to sign on to the dole?" Spike muttered.

"Just open it!"

Spike tore open the envelope and removed the document inside.

"Job Specification for Music Columnist?" he read. "Album reviews, concert reviews, interviews . . . are you serious?"

"Are you?" countered Lynda. "This is a big deal, Thompson. No mucking around. If you want it, you have to work hard and do it right."

"Oh, I want it. I'll start right now!" Spike couldn't believe it. This was even better than what he had in mind! Well, almost. He did, after all, have a very colourful imagination.

"Don't be silly, Spike, it's late. And anyway, don't you want your surprise?"

"I thought this was . . ." Spike trailed off as Lynda peeled off her coat to reveal a saucy maid's outfit underneath.

"Surprise!" she said demurely and sat in his lap.

"Okay, Spike, stay cool," Spike muttered fervently to himself. "Think unsexy thoughts. Two weeks til the first edition. Two weeks til the first edition."

"What did you say?" Lynda murmured, kissing the side of his neck.

"Two weeks til the first edition!" blurted Spike.

"Mmhmm," replied Lynda, pulling him down into a kiss. Spike gave up on the hopeless task of thinking unsexy thoughts and happily settled for kissing her back when suddenly Lynda broke away.

"I'm sorry. I've got to . . ." she leapt up from Spike's lap and ran out into the deserted office towards the bathrooms.

"That's enough to make any guy paranoid," said Spike, checking his breath.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The working day was well over at The Messenger and Kenny was still at his desk, working on his council story. The articles Lynda had sent over had taken longer than anticipated and it was only now that he was just about caught up.

"Hey, Kenny!" It was Mick, one of the guys from Classifieds. "Didn't think you were still here, mate. I'm heading down to Raglan's for a beer if you're thirsty."

"Raglan's? Isn't that the backpacker pub?" asked Kenny. "Why are you going there?" Mick laughed.

"Because, my old mate Kenny, it is always full of the finest women the world has to offer. English, Irish, Finnish, Swedish, Norwedish . . . all out to experience the best of Australia. I take it upon myself, as a matter of national pride, to allow them to have that experience."

Kenny laughed. "And what do I have to offer? Guys like me are common as mud where they're from!"

"There's Aussie girls there too, International Master," replied Mick. "Come on, mate, you know you want to! Get your pommy arse out of that chair, shut down your computer and let's go explore the world, one lady at a time."

"Well, when you put it like that," grinned Kenny.

"Good man. Come on!"

They walked a couple of blocks down the street from the Messenger building to Raglan's Hotel. Being a weeknight, it was not overly busy but had a good number of tanned young people chatting with a variety of accents.

"I'll get the first round," said Mick. "Grab us that table over there." He made his way to the bar as Kenny took a seat at the table. Feeling a bit overdressed compared to the singlets and hiking shorts around him, he took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt a little.

"Loosened up already?" Mick asked, placing a beer in front of him. "Get that into ya!"

"Cheers!" replied Kenny and drank up.

"You should see the girl behind the bar," said Mick after a few minutes and whistled appreciatively. "Irish redhead. Absolute stunner."

Kenny craned his neck to see and spotted her immediately, looking straight back at him. He smiled bashfully and she smiled back before serving another customer.

"Well, well!" said Mick. "Good thing it's your buy."

"Hmm?" asked Kenny, stupidly. Mick pointed to their empty glasses.

"It's your round, mate. Get up there and see if you can't get more than a smile out of her."

Normally, back in England, Kenny would probably have run a mile at this suggestion but fortified by the beer and Mick's encouragement, Kenny took a deep breath and marched to the bar.

To his dismay, it was a guy with a pierced eyebrow and Germanic accent who approached and asked him what he wanted.

"Err," replied Kenny. "Can I have a minute, I haven't decided yet."

"Whatever," shrugged the bartender and moved off to serve someone else.

The lovely redhead was now serving at the other end of the bar. She spotted him and smiled again. Kenny smiled back before his vision was obscured.

"Have you decided yet?" asked the male bartender impatiently.

"Uh, no," replied Kenny, feeling decidely idiotic. The bartender rolled his eyes before turning away again. Kenny looked down at the bar, embarassed, and when he lifted his head again, there she was.

"Hello," she said. "What will you have?"

"Hello," he replied. "Can I get two beers, please?"

"You can," she replied. "Draught all right?"

"Oh, yes, fine," he said distractedly and watched as she expertly poured the beer into two sideways glasses.

"$4.50, please," she said. Kenny fumbled in his pocket. He knew he had the right money but deliberately brought out a twenty-dollar note so she would have to bring him change.

"There's $15.50," she said, coming back from the cash register.

How to keep her talking? Kenny impulsively dumped his $15.50 into the tips jar.

"Very kind," she smiled. "What's your name? Or should I just call you Big Spender?" Oh, that accent! Kenny was melting like the ice someone had spilt on the bar.

"Kenny," he mumbled.

"Kelly," she said.

"No, Kenny," he said clearly. "Two 'n's"

She smiled patiently. "And I'm Kelly. Two 'l's."

"Oh, right," Kenny died internally of embarrassment at least four times.

"So, where are you from, then, Kenny of the two 'n's?" She picked up a tea towel and started drying glasses.

"Er, Norbridge. West of London," he replied.

"And what brings you to Australia?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, getting out, seeing the world, the usual kind of thing," he said. "How about you?"

"Running from a broken heart, the usual kind of thing," she replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said kind-hearted Kenny, immediately. "Were you together long?"

"Only a day, as it happens," she replied. "I fell in love with a wrong number! Isn't that mad?"

Kenny's eyes widened in disbelief and his legs turned to jelly.

"Dublin?" he whispered.

The glass Kelly was holding smashed to the floor as she invoked the name of Kenny's favourite Glaswegian relative.

"Aunt Rachel?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The Phoenix office was becoming even more populated as newly created positions were filled.

"Good morning, Lynda!" came the sunny greeting from the reception desk as Lynda entered the building one morning.

"Morning," replied Lynda distractedly, then stopped and did a double take. "Sophie?"

"That's me!" replied the new receptionist chirpily.

"What are you doing here?" asked Lynda, immediately suspicious. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Sophie laughed. "Lynda, I finished last year. And with my impeccable reference, I got the job here as receptionist."

"References. Meaning Colin, I'll bet," muttered Lynda. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

The phone rang. Sophie held up a hand and smiled politely at Lynda before pressing a button on the switchboard. "Good morning, Phoenix magazine, Sophie speaking! How may I help you?" She paused as the voice on the other end of the line spoke. "Certainly. I'll just put you through." She pressed another button and returned her glance expectantly to Lynda.

"Well, you seem to have that part down," said Lynda grudgingly. "But who actually hired you?"

"The HR manager," replied Sophie with a grin.

"HR . . ." Lynda thought. "Oh, right. Tiddler."

"Right," agreed Sophie. "Or Toni, as she prefers to be called these days."

"My ears are burning!" said the blonde who came through the door.

"Good morning, Toni!" said Sophie.

"Morning, Sophie. Morning, Lynda!" said Toni.

"Tiddler," said Lynda. "Do you think you could consult me before doing any actual hiring? If it's not too much trouble, that is."

"Certainly, Lynda," replied Toni. "And do you think you could call me Toni, as I have repeatedly requested of you? If it's not too much trouble, that is."

The two stared each other down for a moment.

"Are there any other new additions to staff I should know about . . . Toni?" asked Lynda finally.

"Well, as a matter of fact, there is," Toni replied, trying to hide her smile of victory. "Colin has an accounts assistant and we have a person in Records."

"Isn't Colin's assistant that girl?" asked Lynda.

"If by 'that girl', you mean Cindy, then that's right. And the new girl in Records is . . ."

"Wait a minute, let me guess," said Lynda and turned to Sophie. "Your offsider, I expect?"

"Morning Lynda!" came the cheerful greeting from the door.

Without turning around, Lynda replied, "Morning, Laura!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Spike was brainstorming an idea for his first column. Though to look at him, feet on the desk and pencil tapping absently on lip, you could be forgiven for thinking he was just taking it easy, as usual.

"Colin wants to talk to you about your expenses," said the voice behind him, disrupting the creative process.

"Now, there's something for the first edition. Colin wanting to discuss something to do with money!" replied Spike, swivelling around to face Cindy Watkins, accounts assistant.

"Spike, this is serious. You've claimed an iPod!"

"Well, as Music Columnist, I consider it to be necessary equipment for my job," said Spike, primly. "How can one review music if one has got nothing to listen to it on?"

Cindy rolled her eyes. "You go and tell him then. He's having seven kinds of fit about it. You know what he's like."

"I sure do. Leave it with me, Cindy." Spike sauntered over to the accounts department and burst suddenly into Colin's office. Colin looked up guiltily, the way he always did whenever anyone came unexpectedly into his line of vision but recovered quickly.

"Ah, Spike. Did Cindy have a chat to you about your expenses?"

"She did," replied Spike, coming around to Colin's side of the desk and sitting heavily on it. Colin smiled, in what he thought was a just-us-guys sort of way.

"It's about the iPod, Spike, my old mate. We can't cover it."

"Sure you can. It's a legitimate business expense. We've got a brand-new and healthy budget, Colin, don't tell me you've 'invested' it already!"

Colin looked hurt. "Spike, "I'm shocked and appalled you could even think that. I'm simply trying to ensure that the Phoenix is a financially viable commodity from the start."

"Yeah, right. How about this, I keep the iPod and I don't tell Lynda to get Mayer's accountants in here to give you a helping hand starting up?"

Colin swallowed hard. "Tell you what, Spike. You return the iPod and I'll give you – at a greatly reduced price – the latest in portable music devices." He scrambled in a carton under the desk and produced a small box.

"An iPoc?"

"Virtually indistinguishable from the real thing!" Colin had regained some confidence. "My uncle is importing them." Spike inspected the box.

"Does it even have headphones?" he asked, sceptically.

"Sold separately," replied Colin, without flinching.

"Does it play mp3s?"

"Ah. Well, no, not exactly," squirmed Colin.

"Not exactly?"

"The features are slightly different. It does however, have a very powerful AM radio . . ." Spike snorted and tossed the box back to Colin.

"8 out of 10 East Timorese teenagers can't tell the difference!" called Colin as Spike left the office. Undaunted, Colin set about reviewing his customer files. The same near-sighted executives that purchased his inflatable phones would be just the marketing demographic for an Appella iPoc.

Spike returned to his desk and fished the iPod in question out of his pocket, marvelling at the tiny size yet again. Sure, he had upgraded his old tape Walkman to a Discman years ago but this held so much more music and was so much more easier to carry. No more sagging pockets, chewed tapes or scratched disks. Amazing. He looked fondly at the iPod for a little longer before turning to his computer and beginning to type.

"The Revolution of Portable Music," he said aloud. "From Ghetto-Blaster to Pocket Rocket!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Kenny grinned. He wasn't grinning at anyone in particular and was therefore looking somewhat vacant.

He and Kelly had talked late into the night after she finished work. Mick had left them to it and they walked to an all-night coffee shop close by, oblivious to the patrons that breezed in and out during their time there. They had even made the astonishing discovery their paths had crossed in Norbridge years earlier. Kenny, who had once struggled with the concept of fate and destiny, was astounded.

"I suppose it was meant to be," he said. "Finding you yet again, I mean."

"I think so too," she said. "D'you know what else I think was meant to be?"

"What?" asked Kenny. Kelly smiled.

"You kissing me."

"Oh! Right!" said Kenny, blushing. "Well, who am I to go against fate and destiny when they've worked so hard to get us back together?"

"Exactly," smiled Kelly. "So stop wasting time. You're angering the gods."

She leant forward as Kenny did the same and they kissed, much to the whooped delight of a young man with green hair and a nose ring.

There had been more kissing later as he walked her back to her room at the backpacker's hotel and it was the particular recollection of the last one which was making him grin at that particular time.

Reviewing the whole night again in luxurious detail, Kenny realised he had, once again, neglected to get any of her contact details.

"Not to worry," he thought. "I'll pop down there after work and catch up with her again."

The thought of seeing her prompted the return of the grin and it was another full five minutes before he got back down to something resembling work. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't exactly on the job.

_The Member for Ramsay went on to state that the Salisbury council was kelly kelly kelly kelly._

Chuckling to himself, Kenny pressed backspace to erase his trance-like typing.

"Kenny!" Mick propped himself up on the wall of Kenny's cubicle. "Still with us, mate?"

"Mick!" Kenny beamed. "Hey, have I thanked you for taking me out last night?"

"Only a hundred times," Mick smiled back. "You're a sly dog, you are!"

"What do you mean?" Kenny tried to wipe the smile from his face.

"I point out the hottest chick to ever grace the bar of that place, and you not only chat her up but have a mysterious connection going back years involving wrong numbers and aunties and have her eating out of your hand," Mick shook his head. "And here I was thinking you were the shy, retiring type!"

Kenny stretched. "Well, Mick, you've either got it or you don't. I'd be happy to give you a few pointers!"

Mick scoffed good-naturedly. "So what happens now? Are you going down there straight after work? Or is that a stupid question?"

"The stupidest," agreed Kenny. "I swear, someone has set that clock back."

"Go now!" said Mick. "You can't let work get in the way of true love!"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly . . ." said Sensible Kenny.

"Course you can. I'll cover you," replied Mick.

Sensible Kenny realised he was fighting a losing battle and shut up. Lovestruck Kenny winked at Mick.

"I owe you one," he said as he hurriedly shut down his computer and gathered his things.

"One! You owe me half a dozen for that girl!" Mick called to his departing back. Kenny waved over his shoulder as a response and jauntily pressed the lift call button.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Look, please go and see a doctor. You could be really sick!" Spike was sitting anxiously in Lynda's visitor's chair later that day as she studiously ignored him. "Please! For me!"

"For you?" she asked, finally looking up.

"Yeah, for me," replied Spike. "How's a guy expected to look his best when his mirror time is being infringed on? This bathroom hogging has got to stop!"

"You do have your own flat," Lynda reminded him, returning her glance to her work.

"That's true. But yours has got something wonderful that mine lacks," he replied. Lynda rolled her eyes.

"Spike, that is so cheesy. Even for you." Spike looked offended.

"What's cheesy about a full-length mirror?" he asked. "The one in my flat only shows my head and shoulders. I gotta climb on the toilet just to check out my bottom half! And I'm sure you'll agree, Lynda . . ." he leaned forward conspiratorily, "My bottom half should be viewed in all its splendour, complete and attached to my top half!"

"I'll gladly detach your bottom half if you don't let me get some work done," replied Lynda. Spike sighed and got up.

"Okay, okay. I'll leave you to it. But promise me you'll see a doctor?" he said.

"I'm feeling a lot better actually," said Lynda brightly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it was a bug."

"Maybe. I guess I'll bug off then!" replied Spike and left her office. Lynda watched him return to his desk and waited until he turned his back before bolting immediately to the Ladies.

"Don't worry too much," said Sophie cheerfully from the mirror as Lynda eventually staggered out of the bathroom cubicle. "It'll soon pass. My sister was exactly the same with her first."

"Your sister is in publishing?" asked Lynda, confused, her one-track mind focused purely on the first edition.

"No!" laughed Sophie. "First baby, I mean. The morning sickness? It will pass soon. You know what she swore by? Digestives."

"Digestives? Baby?" A look of horror crossed Lynda's face as Sophie's words dawned on her. She left the bathroom quickly and headed straight back into her office, leaving a bemused Sophie behind.

Breathing heavily, Lynda sat down at her desk and then immediately jumped up and pulled down the venetian blinds that blocked her view of the office floor. At first, she had been reluctant about separating herself and not being amongst the thick of things but having space to herself was definitely what she needed at the moment.

"Spike," she said aloud. "I need to talk to Spike." She picked up the phone but the thought of actually saying the words out loud to Spike's face made her freeze. Leaving the safety of her office at this stage was also not an option. She stared blankly at her computer screen for a moment.

"Email!" she said and for once in her life, blessed the new technology.

She created a new email and began typing. Keep it brief, she thought. After hitting Send, she breathed a sigh of relief. It felt better getting it off her chest. Going over to the window, she pulled up her venetian blinds to discover every head in the office staring at her with shocked expressions. A new sickening feeling, different to the one she had been experiencing settled into her stomach. She scurried back to her machine and frantically began clicking randomly, eventually opening her Sent Messages folder.

_To: All Staff _

_From: Lynda Day_

_Subject: none_

_Spike, we need to talk._

_I think I'm pregnant._

Lynda dropped the venetian blinds again and sank into her chair.

"Damn!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Spike sat in Czar's café, his mind racing. After the email bombshell had been dropped on the whole office, he had immediately gone to her office door which was locked. Repeated knockings had yielded no answer, nor had constant phone calls. It seemed Lynda had sealed herself off from the whole world. Spike flipped open his mobile phone and dialled the office again.

"Good afternoon, Phoenix magazine, Sophie speaking! How can I . . ."

"It's Spike, Sophie."

"Spike, she's still not answering. She's diverted to voicemail."

"What?" Spike was in disbelief. "She can barely dial an outside number unaided and now she's managed to divert her line?"

"She's been in there a while, Spike," replied Sophie. "Maybe she's been reading the manual."

Spike grunted. "Just let me know if she surfaces, will you?"

"Sure, Spike. See you."

Spike replaced the phone in the pocket of his leather jacket and moodily slurped at his Coke.

"Thought I'd find you here," said Frazz, slipping into his booth. "Though why you don't go to the pub when you're actually legal to drink there now, I don't know."

"Old habits are hard to break," admitted Spike.

"Yeah. Like Lynda's more likely to come here than go to the pub," observed Frazz.

"Maybe I knew that, subconsciously," said Spike wryly. "Frazz, this is crazy. I could be a dad and I don't even know if I should be over the moon or devastated about it! I'm going crazy here! The last time I felt like this was when my father died. Now I have someone to actually share the whole deal with and she won't even talk to me!"

"She says to meet her at her place," replied Frazz conversationally.

"She what?" Spike choked.

"She says to meet her at her place," repeated Frazz.

"How do you – when did . . ." Spike was still struggling with the Winter Palace which had gone down the wrong way.

"Spike, I thought you knew. She's got a back way out of her office, like Colin used to have. Maybe she likes to have a choice of exits. You know, since the fire and all."

Spike had already vaulted out of the grubby booth and was halfway out the door.

"Thanks, Frazz!" he called as the bell jangled to signal his departure.

"No problem," replied Frazz to himself.

Frazz's position on the new magazine had also changed. He had been promoted to head up the Sports department which was exciting but also a little daunting. Frazz wasn't sure if he liked the responsibility, or if he enjoyed being in charge of people.

"I should really get back to the office and get some work done," he thought and jangled the spare change in his pocket. He loved how Czar's had kept all the old arcade games. Although knowing Czar, he probably wasn't going for the retro angle but was just too stingy to upgrade to an internet café.

"A couple of games won't hurt," he said aloud, plugging a few coins into his old nemesis Isis. "After all, it's a game, isn't it? Sports-related in a way. Just a few games. See if I can get FRZ back on the old high score board."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

As Frazz justified wasting the afternoon shooting things in a pixelated Ancient Egyptian setting, Spike arrived breathless at Lynda's door to find it unlocked. Barrelling inside, he found Lynda sitting at her kitchen table, a cold cup of coffee sitting untouched in front of her. She looked up at Spike and burst suddenly and unexpectedly into tears.

"Lynda!" He threw his arms around her and she hugged him back wordlessly. "Do you really think – I mean, are you sure?"

"No," sobbed Lynda, muffled, into his chest. "My stomach's been all over the place lately. And with all the stress of the first edition . . ." She pulled back from him, wiped her face with her hands and went towards the bathroom. Spike followed and watched as she splashed her face with water.

"But what about – I mean, the other way of knowing. Your . . ." Discussing women's health issues was clearly agonising for Spike as he nodded towards the bathroom cabinet.

"I can't remember!" moaned Lynda. "I've had so much to think about!"

"But you take care of things, right?" Spike nodded again, this time towards the packet of birth control pills on the sink.

"Of course!" Lynda snatched up the packet and looked at it in dismay. Only three pills for the whole month had been taken. The two looked at each other.

"Lynda. The pills don't work unless you take them!"

Lynda dropped the packet and sank down to sit on the edge of the bath. Spike knelt down beside her.

"Look. Should I go and get one of those home test things?" he asked.

Lynda nodded.

"Okay. I'll run down to Boots right now," he said, standing up.

"Not the one in the high street!" Lynda squeaked. "They'll know it's for me."

"Okay. I'll go to the one in the mall," replied Spike.

"No! Mum's best friend works there!" Lynda said frantically.

"It's okay, Lynda. I'll go to the one in Benton Ford. I used to get my – er, cough medicine there." Spike smothered a smirk and headed out the door. He jogged towards his old stomping ground with a mixed feeling of excitement and worry in his stomach. Finally, he got to the chemist and groaned when he saw the old guy behind the counter had been replaced by a very attractive young blonde.

Discreetly surveying the aisles, he finally found the home pregnancy tests. So many to choose from! Which was the right one? Were the cheaper ones not as good? He was starting to wish he hadn't volunteered for this particular assignment as he agonised over his decision.

"Need any help?" The blonde from behind the counter was now by his side.

"Me? Ah, no!" Spike grabbed a tube at random from the shelf and held it out. "Err, what can you tell me about this?"

"Well, it's haemmoroid cream," she replied. "Are you suffering from haemmoroids?"

"Me? No, it's for a friend!" Spike said hastily. The blonde smiled.

"Look, there's no need to be embarrassed. I've seen it all before."

"Lucky you!" muttered Spike and decided to drop the act. "Look, my girlfriend thinks she's pregnant and we need one of these home tests."

"Well, how late is she?" asked the pharmacist.

"Late? Oh, right. Ah, I don't know," replied Spike. "I don't really know anything. Please don't ask me any more questions!"

The pharmacist smiled and took a box from the shelf. "Look, try this one. If the results are inconclusive, go and see a doctor."

"Right! Great! Thanks!" Spike fumbled money out of his pocket and pushed it into her hand. "Keep the change! Bye!"

He sprinted out of the shop, leaving an amused blonde pharmacist behind.

"Wasn't that Spike Thomson?" asked a croaky voice from the back of the shop.

"Yes, Granddad. Picking up a pregnancy test!" replied the young girl. The old man wheezed with laughter.

"Thought I hadn't seen him for a while. For the amount of condoms that boy used to buy, I'm surprised he needs one!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Are you sure you'll remember?" Kelly asked, tears still fresh on her face, as she threw things into her rucksack.

"Of course," replied Inga, her Dutch roommate, patting the envelope on the bedside table.

"I'm sure he'll come in tonight. If I could just stay a touch longer and see him myself!" She stood in the middle of their dormitory, hands bunched in hair, looking around distractedly at the rest of her possessions.

"You must go. Your family, they need you," said Inga soothingly. "You are doing the right thing, Kelly."

"I know, I know," sighed Kelly. "I wish they weren't so far away. I'm dead scared by the time I get there, it'll be too late."

"You musn't think like that," said Inga, helping her fold the last of her clothes.

"No. You're right," agreed Kelly, buckling her rucksack shut. "I was lucky to get a flight out so soon. I'll be home in no time." She took a deep breath and surveyed the room one last time, eyes landing again on the envelope. "You will promise to give it to him, Inga, won't you?"

Inga picked up Kelly's satchel. "I will promise. Now, come on downstairs. You have a taxi waiting."

The two girls made their way down to the street below where they said their tearful goodbyes.

As the taxi pulled away, Kenny arrived at the hotel, full of good cheer.

"Hello. Can I talk to Kelly please?" he asked the young Scottish guy behind the bar, unable to keep the enormous smile from his face.

"Ye could, if she were here," replied the Scot. "She's left."

"Left?"

"Aye," said the barman. "Back to Ireland. Her mam's sick."

"She's left?" repeated Kenny, the grin rapidly fading along with the colour in his face. "Where is she?"

"At the airport, I'd say, by now," replied the barman. "You only missed her by a second."

Kenny sat stunned for a second, thanked the barman politely out of habit and wandered outside. Inga was still on the footpath, finishing a cigarette.

"She's left," said Kenny, dully.

"Pardon?" asked Inga.

"Kelly. I lost her. I found her. I lost her again. Why do I never even get to say goodbye to her?" By this stage, Kenny was talking to himself as much as Inga, whose eyes had widened as she hastily stamped out her cigarette.

"You're Kenny!" she exclaimed. Kenny nodded vaguely.

"She left – she left you . . ." Inga's English failed her as she tried to explain to Kenny.

"I know she did. They always leave me," replied Kenny, mournfully.

"No! No! You wait right here, please!" Inga dashed inside and soon returned with the envelope marked with Kenny's name. "Here! For you! From her!"

Animation returned to Kenny's features as he tore open the envelope and read the hastily scratched note inside.

_Dear Kenny_

_My mam's sick and I've managed to get a flight home to Dublin today. I'm so sorry not to see you to say goodbye but I know we'll meet again._

_My email address is Please write._

_Kelly_

Kenny reread the note several times before folding it decisively into his pocket.

"What airline is she flying?" he asked Inga.

"Err, British Airways," she replied.

"Right. Thanks very much," said Kenny briskly, grabbed her and kissed her before stepping to the curb and thrusting his hand up in the air. "Taxi!"

The taxi pulled alongside and Kenny got in the front seat.

"Airport. International terminal," he said crisply. "And hurry . . . please."

"Righto!" said the driver, pulling a fast u-turn and heading towards the airport. "So, is it a girl?"

"How did you know?" asked an astounded Kenny.

"Mate, I've been a taxi driver for 25 years. I know the look," replied the driver, swerving through traffic. "I'm a sucker for romance. Let me guess, she's getting on a plane, possibly leaving forever and you've got to tell her how you feel before she leaves?"

"Something like that," grinned Kenny, as they left the city.

"What airline?" asked the driver.

"British Airways," replied Kenny. The driver fumbled his mobile phone out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Kenny.

"Here. Call 'em. Find out the flight number and departure gate. Then you'll know exactly where to go when you get there. Look out, ya mongrel!" He swerved violently and gestured rudely to the offending vehicle.

Too stunned to argue, Kenny was soon on the phone to British Airways where a lovely modulated voice gave him the information he required. Kenny thanked her and was about to hang up when another voice inside him suddenly spoke out.

"Are there any seats left on the flight?" asked the voice. The woman told him there were.

"Can I book one please and pick it up at the gate?" The woman told him also that would be fine, if she could have his credit card details. Fishing his wallet from his pocket, Kenny supplied them. The driver, listening in, was grinning ear to ear as he continued his assault on Adelaide's west-bound traffic.

"That's all fine, sir," said the woman.

"One more thing," said the voice from inside Kenny. "I'd like to sit next to my friend, Kelly Moloney. Would that be possible?"

"Certainly, sir," came the reply. "That's all booked in. Enjoy your flight."

"I'm sure I will," replied Kenny and hung up.

"Here we are, sir!" said the driver, pulling up to the airport terminal.

"Thanks very much," said Kenny, handing him back his phone. "For everything."

"My pleasure!" replied the driver. "And don't you dare think of paying me for the ride either. I'll be telling this story to the other drivers at the rank, I can give you the tip!"

"How about you let me give you the tip?" Kenny asked, and before the driver could protest, he had slipped a $50 note into his hand and ran into the terminal. The driver watched him go, smiled and shook his head, then pulled sharply out of the loading area with a squeal of tyres. Another job came up on his screen but he ignored it. With a $50 tip, he could shout the other cabbies in the rank a cup of coffee to enjoy while he told them his latest story.

The flight was soon boarding and Kelly made her way onto the plane, inching her way down the aisle behind a large woman with an equally large carry-on bag. Finally, she reached her row and stowed her bag in the overhead compartment before sliding over to the window seat. The view outside blurred as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Are you all right?" asked a concerned English voice.

"I'm fine," replied Kelly, turning to give a watery smile to her seatmate.

"I'm glad," replied Kenny, handing her a tissue.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Spike made it back to Lynda's flat without incident and presented her with the brown paper bag from the pharmacy. Lynda took the box out of the bag and studied it.

"Right. No time like the present, I suppose!" she said and walked into the bathroom with Spike hot on her heels.

"Spike! You can't come in!"

"Why not?" asked Spike, puzzled. "This is a pretty big thing, you know. I'm with you every step of the way."

Lynda smiled in spite of herself. "You didn't read the directions, did you?" she asked.

"Huh?" Spike replied wittily. Lynda handed him the box and waited as he scanned the instructions briefly. "Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I'll wait out here then."

"You do that," said Lynda wryly and closed the door.

Spike sat on the couch and fidgeted. Then he stood up and walked to the kitchen table, sat down and fidgeted some more. He jumped up again, opened the fridge for no reason, got a glass of water from the sink and put it down untouched. Finally, after three minutes had inched past, he went over to the bathroom door and tapped.

"How's it going in there?" he asked.

"That's not a very polite thing to ask someone who is in the bathroom," came the tart reply.

Spike rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. What does the test say?"

There was a pause. "Erm . . . I'm not sure."

"What do you mean? There's supposed to be lines, right?" Spike asked.

"Yes, but . . . I don't know if this is a line or not."

"Well, what does it look like?"

There was another pause. "Half a line?"

"Hey! Does that mean you're only half pregnant?" Spike joked lamely. There was no answer. "Okay, I know. Bad timing. I'll go and wait on the couch."

After a few minutes, Lynda emerged from the bathroom dejectedly.

"I'm going to have to go to the doctor, aren't I?" she asked.

"I guess so," replied Spike. Lynda flopped down beside him and buried her head in her hands.

"I can't do this, Spike! I'm not a mother! I'm about to launch a brand-new magazine, how am I supposed to edit The Phoenix and juggle a baby at the same time? And I've just taken out a lease on this apartment – I can't afford anything bigger! What am I supposed to do, keep it in a drawer?"

"Hey, hey! Lynda!" Spike took her by the shoulders and put his face in hers. "You're forgetting, you won't be doing this alone. You've got the baby's dad, right here."

"What?" asked Lynda.

"What, you were thinking I was just going to pop over and look in on how you're doing every now and then?" Spike asked with a catch in his throat. "Who do you think I am, my dad?"

"I – I suppose I didn't think of it like that," replied Lynda, dazed.

"Lynda, let me tell you, I'm determined to be everything my father wasn't. And my mother. This kid is going to grow up loved and wanted and happy and stable. No getting pulled from country to country. No council estates, no going from school to school, no custody battles at Christmas." Spike spoke with a quiet and serious determination that was unusual for him. "We're in this together. The whole deal, forever, the works, right?"

Lynda smiled. "Right."

"I love you, Lynda."

"I love you, Spike."

"Now, get up and make that phone call to the doctor's office."

"Oh, I can do it later."

"No, now."

"Why?"

"Because you're sitting on my hand and I can't feel it anymore."

"Oh! Sorry."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

It had been just over three hours since Kenny had impulsively boarded British Airways flight BA7426 to Dublin via Sydney and London at Adelaide International and he and Kelly had barely drawn breath between them as they touched down in Sydney for their first stopover.

"I hope you don't think this is creepy," apologised Kenny for possibly the twentieth time. "I just couldn't let you go again. Really. I suffered for so long after I couldn't get back to you on the phone. I could have killed the guy I spoke to at BT when I was trying to get him to unfix the re-routing problem! Does that make me mad?"

Kelly laughed. "Kenny, you're fine, really. More than fine. You're amazing. I've never known a man who would leave everything behind and jump on an international flight going to the other side of the world just for me. You're fine, amazing and maybe a little mad. How did you manage it?"

"Well, lucky for me, I'm a good Boy Scout," replied Kenny, patting his bag. "Passport and everything, right in here. Sort of a leftover from when I was travelling around, I suppose. I like to have everything on me. I think I've even got a toothbrush!"

"That was very lucky," said Kelly.

"Well, chance is a fine thing," replied Kenny. "But I think we've gone beyond luck and chance now, don't you?"

"I do," Kelly smiled, leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Now! Are we going to leave this plane or are they going to have to clean around us?"

Kenny looked around and noticed they were sitting in an empty plane – well, empty except for a slightly irritated looking flight attendant.

"Oh, yeah. Right," Kenny blushed and got out of his seat. They left the plane via the aerobridge and were herded into a transition lounge before their onwards flight to Heathrow.

"I'll just pop along to the Ladies," said Kelly. "Will you be around here?"

"Are you sure I shouldn't come along?" teased Kenny. "Just in case you're snatched away from me again?"

"Now that would be creepy," replied Kelly with a smile and started making her way towards the bathrooms.

"How about a leash? Handcuffs? GPS tracking system?" Kenny called to her departing back.

"Creep!" she called back over her shoulder.

Still chuckling, Kenny found a payphone and dialled Mick's mobile number.

"Mick, it's Kenny."

"Kenny! I went down to the pub to catch up with you after work and they told me you'd dashed off to the airport to find your girl. Where are you?"

Kenny gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Well, you're not going to believe this, but I'm in Sydney at the moment."

"Sydney? Mate, I said I'd cover you for the afternoon, not the rest of the bloody week! What are you doing there?"

"Errr, just stopping over, actually."

"What?"

"I'm at Sydney International Airport. This is just a stopover. I'm on my way to Dublin."

Expletives crackled down the line. "How long for?"

"I don't know."

"Are you coming back?"

"I don't know."

"Mate, she must be something."

"She is."

"Really something."

"She really is."

"You've lost the plot, Kenny, me old mate. Absolutely Loony Tunes. What am I going to tell the boss?"

"Tell him . . ." Kenny smiled. "Tell him I've gone to visit my aunt in Sherrington."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"And you're sure I can't get in today . . . okay. Well, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow at nine, then." Lynda replaced the phone in its cradle, frowned and chewed her lip.

"I can't get in to see Doctor Bloom until tomorrow morning," she said to Spike.

"Hey, that's not bad for around here," joked Spike. "I remember, I had a wart on my thumb one time? By the time I got in to see the doctor, it wanted its own TV and an allowance!" Lynda didn't smile. "Hey, come on. It's just a few hours. No big deal, right?"

"No big deal! Spike, I could be pregnant! Now, this very minute!" Lynda shrieked. "That's a pretty big deal!"

"Right," said Spike, unruffled. "And tomorrow morning you'll be no more and no less pregnant than you are. If you are." Lynda dropped her head and looked at the floor. Spike took her hands in his.

"Lynda, look at me. Come on. Look at me. It's not a hard thing to do. In fact, most girls would kill for the privilege!"

Lynda gave a small snort and rolled her eyes before fixing them upon Spike.

"You know what, Lynda? My mission, should I choose to accept it – and I do – for the rest of this day and for tomorrow morning is to stop you from being Lynda over this."

"What do you mean?" frowned Lynda.

"I'm going to save you from yourself. Stop you from freaking out." He waggled a finger at her, mock-severely. "I know you, Ms Day. The minute I turn my back, you'll be bolting down the High Street and lurking in dress shops. There's only so many times I can go into each one looking for you without raising suspicions, you know. I still have a reputation in this town, and I'd prefer it if that reputation wasn't one that involved cross-dressing!"

Lynda smiled weakly.

"So what I'm going to do is stay here with you, all night. We'll order some pizza, we'll watch some TV, we'll talk, we won't talk. Whatever you want. But you're not leaving this place until your appointment tomorrow morning and even then, you'll be escorted by your friendly representative from Tough Guy Security. Me."

"What about the office?" Lynda asked.

"I'll take care of that. I'll take care of everything. Today, I am your personal assistant, your bodyguard, your errand boy, your caterer and maybe even your boyfriend."

"Thank you, Spike."

"No problem. I'm great at multi-tasking. So long as I don't mail out the pizza and serve letters for dinner, we should be okay. Now, why don't you slip into something more comfortable . . ." he broke off as Lynda shot him a look. "Your pyjamas! I meant your pyjamas," he added hastily. "I'll call the office, talk to Julie, get everything under control."

"Tell her to stay away from my desk!" came an order from the old Lynda as she headed towards her bedroom.

"Shouldn't be too hard. I mean, you did lock the door from inside!" replied Spike and dialled the number of the Phoenix office. Good thing they'd managed to keep the old Junior Gazette number and just re-route it. Spike had enough trouble remembering his own number now that mobile phones stored everything in them.

"Good afternoon, Phoenix magazine, Sophie speaking! How can I help you?"

"Hey, Sophie. It's Spike."

"Spike, she still hasn't . . ."

"No, it's fine. I've found her. She's at home."

"Oh, thank God for that," Sophie definitely sounded relieved. "I'll start taking messages. Her voicemail is full and people are definitely getting narky about it."

"Divert everything you can to Julie," said Spike. "Lynda's going to be off for the rest of the day and probably tomorrow too."

"Is she all right? I mean – we all got the email . . ." Sophie trailed off.

"Yeah, she's fine. Well, physically. Mentally, I'm not too sure. But when are we ever sure about Lynda's mental state? I'll be staying with her anyway, so if you can take messages for me too, that would be great."

"Of course, Spike. No problem."

"Thanks Sophie. Put me through to Julie, will you?"

"Sure. Bye."

Spike filled Julie in on the situation and received her reassurance that everything would be handled in Lynda's absence.

Later that evening, after a gourmet dinner of pizza and garlic bread, Spike and Lynda were curled up together on the couch when Lynda suddenly brought the subject of children up.

"What was your childhood like, Spike? I mean, I know it was hard. But – well . . . what was it like growing up with two parents from different countries?"

Spike thought. "Well, it all started in New Rochelle, where I was born. That's in New York City. We lived there til I was maybe 12? Well, Dad and I did. Mom kinda came and went, as you know. Anyway, when I was 12, Mom got this opportunity to head up this publishing company in LA. So we picked up and moved across to the other side of the country. I guess that's where I started getting into trouble. You know, I was the kid from New York, different accent, different clothes. That kind of thing. I was going to this private school . . ."

"You went to a private school?" Lynda asked, incredulously.

"Sure. Hard to believe, I know," Spike replied. "They had this uniform – I'm telling ya, Lynda, it was awful. No-one looked good in that uniform, not even me. So I didn't wear it and I got expelled. Well, that was one of the reasons they gave. Changing the school's motto on the sign probably didn't go down too well either."

"What did you change it to?" asked Lynda.

Spike smirked. "Well, it was E Pluribus Unus', which means . . ."

"Out of Many, One," interjected Lynda.

"Right. So I changed it to E Platypus Anus."

"You didn't!"

"I did," chuckled Spike. "But the thing was, nobody noticed for ages until the visiting superintendent was doing the rounds . . ."

"No!" gasped Lynda.

"Yup," replied Spike, gleefully. "So that ended my educational career at that particular institution. Shortly after that, Mom got transferred to London anyway. And I guess Dad thought she might be happier and easier to live with if we all came to England with her. She wasn't but I think he stayed on, living in hope, for a while anyway. Which is how I came to be at Norbridge High and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Did you miss America?" Lynda asked.

"Sure. I still do sometimes. But when I go back there, I miss here." He smiled. "You've got a lot to do with that, but not everything."

"So, this baby. If it does exist, you'd be happy to raise it completely here in England?" Lynda asked.

"Well, I'd like to take it over to the States for visits, you know. Aunts, uncles, cousins, bars, casinos . . . that kind of thing." Spike replied. "But, yeah. I want this kid to have a stable home. Well, as stable as can be with you and I under the same roof. You know what I mean, though. Grow up in the same house like you did, or at least in the same area."

"I'd like that too," said Lynda thoughtfully.

"I was a mistake, you know," Spike said casually.

"Spike! Don't say that!"

"No, really. I was. My Dad told me. Repeatedly. I don't know if they meant to have kids eventually or what, but I came as a bit of a surprise. I think Dad thought it was what drove Mom away. She was the one who had to put her career on hold and he could just carry on doing what he did, you know? So when it came time to move to LA, they didn't even ask me. Just told me, 'Hey Spike, guess what? We're going to the land of swimming stars and movie pools!' or something like that."

"Must have been hard," said Lynda sympathetically.

"I like to think of it as character-building," replied Spike. "And as you can see, it worked. I'm quite a character!"

"You are," agreed Lynda.

"So that's why I'm determined not to see this as a bad thing or a mistake," continued Spike. "I'm ready for anything. Except octuplets. Now that would be a shock."

Lynda smiled at Spike. "Well, are you ready for a beating in Trivial Pursuit?"

Spike scoffed. "Lady, I'd like to see you try! Who won the last game?"

"That was totally unfair," replied Lynda haughtily. "You cheated."

"Hey! I didn't know I wasn't allowed to phone a friend!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

During their Sydney stopover, Kelly and Kenny had a bite to eat and a look through the duty-free shops before Kenny noticed an internet terminal.

"Do we have time for me to have a quick peek at my email?" he asked.

"Sure," replied Kelly. "I'll go back and pick up that scarf I was looking at. It will be a nice get-well present for my mam."

"Synchronise watches?" joked Kenny. Kelly tapped hers and saluted before going back towards the duty-free area. Kenny turned back to the machine and fed a $2 coin into the slot. Logging in to Yahoo, he checked his email inbox. A couple of new messages, mostly jokes from friends and one from Lynda.

Opening it, he rolled his eyes at the familiar "All Staff" in the To: box.

"She's done it again!" he laughed and scrolled down to read the body of the message.

_To: All Staff _

_From: Lynda Day_

_Subject: none_

_Spike, we need to talk._

_I think I'm pregnant._

Kenny stared at the message until his paid time expired.

"Nice one, Lynda!" he croaked eventually. "What a way to drop a bombshell on your best friend!"

"Is everything okay?" Kelly asked, duty-free bag in hand. "Only we've got to get back to the departure gate. They've just called our flight, didn't you hear?"

"No. No, I didn't," replied Kenny, vaguely. This would have to be one of the strangest days of my life, he thought. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he smiled at Kelly and they walked towards the gate to board their onward flight to Heathrow.

Towards the end of the flight, Kelly noticed Kenny wasn't watching the movie on the screen in front of them but rather staring at his tray table which was securely fastened in the upright position. She nudged him.

"Enjoying the tray table?" she asked.

"What? Sorry, yeah. It's really good. I like that guy, the main guy."

"Yeah, right. Look, you've seemed a bit distracted since we left Sydney. Not regretting coming along, are you?"

"Hmm? What? No! Definitely not! It's just – well, I got an email from my friend, my best friend, in England. She thinks she's pregnant."

"Wow! That's big news!"

"Right. Big news."

Kelly sensed more to the story. "Is it good big news?"

Kenny thought. "I don't know. Somehow, I don't think it was planned. Which, to this particular friend, would mean bad news."

"Is this Lynda, the one you've been telling me about?" Kelly asked.

"Yeah," said Kenny.

"Is the baby Spike's?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure," replied Kenny. "The only reason I know is because she sent an email thinking it was only to Spike, when in fact it was to All Staff."

"Which you would have received in your Yahoo email because your friend Billy who is a tetraplegic and is also head of IT at the Phoenix had set it up so you'd still be in the loop," deduced Kelly.

Kenny was amazed. "Wow! You really have been listening!"

Kelly smiled. "Well, I happen to find you very interesting."

"I happen to feel the same way about you," Kenny smiled back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are about to commence our descent into London Heathrow. The ground conditions are fine and at present, there are no air traffic delays which – I don't mind telling you – is nothing short of a miracle. For passengers travelling onwards to Dublin with Aer Lingus, please proceed along concourse A to the transit lounge. If you are leaving us here in London, we'd like to offer you a warm welcome home or a pleasant stay. Thank you."

Again, Kelly and Kenny went through the process of disembarking the plane. When they emerged into the airport terminal, Kenny was struck by all the familiar sights and hearing familiar accents. Without even realising it, he had accidentally come home. He noticed Kelly watching him carefully.

"So! Onward to Dublin then?" he said cheerfully. She smiled.

"I think you know what you have to do."

Kenny pretended to misunderstand. "Sorry? I'm not quite sure I follow."

"This is where your flight ends, Kenny, for now. It's probably best I don't land on the family when they're such a state with a man in tow."

"But . . . I thought we . . ." Kenny stammered.

"This isn't the end, ye daft boy," Kelly pinched his cheek softly. "It's just the beginning." She handed him a sheet of paper. "Names, numbers, addresses. My parents, my sister, my grandparents, my local bar, the hospital my mam's in. You won't lose me again, Kenny, I promise."

Kenny took the paper. "Thanks for being so understanding. This friend – Lynda, I mean – we go back so far and . . ."

"You don't have to say anything," said Kelly. "Now, you give me all your numbers. I want next-of-kin, childhood friends and any place you think you'll visit. I'll come back to London when I know my mam's better." Kenny hastily scribbled down all his details, having to think hard about some of the numbers. Spike wasn't the only one having trouble remembering details thanks to the advent of mobile phones.

They said their goodbyes with lots of hugs, kisses and a few tears before Kelly went one way towards her connecting flight and Kenny went the other towards home.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

After Spike's phone call, it had fallen to Julie to get the Phoenix staff back on track after Lynda's accidental announcement. People were gathered in small groups around cubicles and in the tea room, all engrossed by the day's hot topic. Julie walked through the office out to reception, overhearing snatches of conversation on the way.

". . . spawn of the devil . . ."

"I've always thought Lynda was a mother – just not that kind."

"I heard Spike has to . . ."

Julie didn't wait to hear what Spike had to do as she stepped out into the lobby and handed Sophie a scrap of paper.

"Sophie, can you make this staff announcement and turn the switchboard to answering machine, please?"

"Can do," replied Sophie, cheerfully. Soon, the receptionist's voice was heard over the PA system.

"Good afternoon staff. There will be a staff meeting in the boardroom in 10 minutes. All staff required to attend. Thank you."

The Phoenix staff gathered noisily in the boardroom and Julie made her way to the front of the room.

"Okay, everyone, quiet please!" she said crisply. The gabble of excited chatting died down immediately. My God, thought Julie. I'm channelling Lynda!

Before this thought could take hold, she continued. "Now, as you know, Lynda's not in right now and will probably be away for a day or two at least." Before the chatter could recommence, she continued briskly. "Look, we all got the email and we all know why she's not here. But in case you're forgetting, we have very little time until the first edition. I don't want anyone to think just because Lynda's not here, it's going to be easy street. In fact, it will be quite the opposite!"

There was a cough that sounded suspiciously like "The Gaz!" from somewhere among the staff members. Julie couldn't tell who, so settled for a non-discriminatory glare all round.

"I mean it, people. I, for one, don't want to face Lynda if this first edition isn't absolutely perfect, and you shouldn't either. Remember that form she made you fill out when you joined, listing the names and addresses of your next of kin?"

Everyone nodded, puzzled.

"Well, let's just say it wasn't so she could contact them in case of emergency!"

Uneasy glances were exchanged.

"That's right. So no more chatting, no more gossiping. If I have to enforce a one-person-in-the-toilets-at-a-time rule, I will. Interoffice email is suspended until further notice." Sophie and Laura looked at each other, dismayed. Julie continued. "From this point on, I am Lynda. Only blonde and better dressed. Any questions?"

The room was silent.

"Good. Let's get to work." She thought about clapping her hands together for emphasis but went against it. Speaking in Lynda's voice was scary enough. Everyone trooped out of the boardroom and returned to their workstations. Julie decided a caffeine hit was in order to get through the afternoon and went to the tea room to make herself a coffee. Taking it back to her office, she locked the door, pulled the blinds, sat at her desk, breathed out heavily and lifted the mug to her lips, inhaling the fragrant steam. Without warning, the intercom blared.

"Julie!"

"Colin!" yelped Julie, splashing coffee all over her desk, keyboard and cream linen shirt.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" enquired Colin politely.

"What is it, Colin?" asked Julie, frantically wriggling out of her shirt which was burning her skin. There was no response. "Colin?"

Rolling her eyes, Julie inspected the fast-spreading stain on her shirt. Lucky she had a coat hanging on the back of the door. It would be easy to slip that on, pop out to the bathroom, rinse the shirt and dry it under the hand dryer. With any luck, the stain wouldn't have set yet.

Coming out from behind her desk, she was just reaching for the coat when the door clicked and swung in.

"Colin!" Julie screamed, holding her stained shirt in a vain effort to cover up. Colin's remarkably flexible eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Err, Julie! I, err, I found the master key you asked for. On your rack. I mean – the rack! I mean - on the key rack."

Julie snatched the key. "Get out, Colin!"

"Okay. I'll just . . ." Colin seemed rooted to the spot.

"Out!" Julie pushed Colin out of the door and slammed the door behind him.

The rest of the office looked back at Colin. This had certainly been the most eventful day of the magazine's short history so far! Colin played it cool with a disarming smile and a shrug.

"Women, eh?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Neither Spike or Lynda got much sleep that night.

Spike was on the couch. Spike was no stranger to the couch at Lynda's flat, however this time, he was there on a purely voluntary basis. While he had enjoyed the pizza the first time around, he was very sure he didn't want to see it again, particularly in any partially-digested form. Thoughtfully, he had furnished Lynda with a bucket and towel before tucking her in for the night and taking his place in the lounge room at around 3am.

It had been a rather eventful day and a long night. Spike was sure he would fall asleep straightaway. Instead, he found himself staring at the ceiling, with thoughts crowding into his brain, keeping him awake.

"I wonder if it's a boy or a girl? That's if she is pregnant . . . shouldn't jump the gun . . . but if she is . . . boy or girl? I'd like a boy. But what if he takes after his old man . . . could I keep him in line? Sure would hate to see my kid nearly go off the rails like I did . . . but he wouldn't because his mom and dad would love him and make sure he didn't head that way . . . I could teach him to play baseball and throw a football to him . . . none of this cricket or soccer . . . then again, a girl would be cool . . . Daddy's little girl . . . she'd be a little Lynda that I could spoil rotten . . . we could get a house with a yard and put a swingset out the back . . . but what if she got hurt . . . I couldn't stand to see my kid in pain . . . that's if she is pregnant . . . shouldn't jump the gun . . . Lynda's parents would be great as grandparents . . . I bet they'd be so proud . . . Mom, on the other hand, well, she'd get used to the idea . . . I'd get the kid to call her Gramma and make her feel really old . . . we could go on family holidays to the States or Blackpool . . . I'd go on all the rides . . . that's if she is pregnant . . . shouldn't jump the gun . . . "

Lynda, on the other hand, was sure she would be awake all night and had fallen asleep almost immediately.

She dreamt of standing by the canal that ran past the old Junior Gazette building, watching the water, when she noticed a black bundle floating by.

Seized by terror, she jumped into the canal and swam after the bundle. As hard as she swam, it stayed out of her reach, bobbing up and down on the murky water.

"Help me!" screamed Lynda, as the bundle floated further away. "Help me get the baby!"

Suddenly she noticed Spike was standing on the bank of the canal, watching.

"Help me, Spike! The baby!"

Spike remained calm as Lynda thrashed her way desperately through the water.

"Why aren't you helping!" she screamed. Spike smiled and shook his head.

"Lynda, Lynda. When are you going to learn? I am helping. Be calm."

"But it's floating away! I have to save it!"

"You aren't doing it alone, Lynda. Be calm."

Lynda stopped swimming.

"Now come over to the bank."

Lynda obeyed. As she did, the bundle changed direction and floated back towards her, right into her arms.

"See?" said Spike. "You don't have to fight. You just have to be."

Lynda unwrapped the bundle. There seemed to be a lot of material. She felt like she had been unwrapping for hours, yet the bundle didn't grow any smaller.

"I don't think I'm doing this right," she said, puzzled.

"Let me try," offered Spike.

"No, no, I can do it," Lynda kept unwrapping and unwrapping until finally she gave up. "Okay, you try."

Spike gave the bundle a tug and the material fell away in a heap.

"There's nothing there," he said.

"But what happened to the baby?" asked Lynda. "There was one, I know there was!"

"Lynda . . ."

"No! There was! Where did it go?" Lynda started frantically sorting through the large pile of material. "It's in here somewhere! I've lost it!"

"Lynda!"

Lynda sat up in bed, gasping, with Spike kneeling by her side in his boxer shorts.

"Was I shouting?" Lynda asked blurrily, snapping on the bedside lamp.

"I'll say. I'm surprised the neighbours haven't called the police. Then again, they might be used to shouts coming from your bedroom." Spike smirked. "Bad dream?"

"I suppose so,"

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, it was just a silly dream. I'm fine." Spike looked at her questioningly.

"Lynda. Remember, you aren't doing this alone."

"No," Lynda replied slowly. "No, you're right. I'm not doing it alone. You helped me."

"I helped. I am helping. I will help. Just call me Mr Helpful," said Spike. "Now, slide over. That couch of yours is giving me a stiff neck."

"Aren't you worried about being vomited on, Mr Helpful?" Lynda asked dryly.

"It's a chance I'm willing to take. I guess I'll have to get used to it, if there is a baby on the way."

"I guess we'll both have to get used to a lot of things," said Lynda. "But, Spike . . . do you think we'd be good parents?"

"Sure we will. I mean, they give you a manual at the hospital, right?"

"Spike . . ." Lynda said, warningly. Spike leaned over, turned the lamp off and snuggled into her.

"Lynda, with your brains and my looks, how could we possibly go wrong?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

At about the same time Spike and Lynda were settling in at another attempt at sleep, Kenny found himself in a virtually empty café at Heathrow, sipping lukewarm airport coffee, eating a lukewarm airport pie and paying airport prices for the privilege. No more generous exchange rate, he thought ruefully, taking a large bite which was probably worth three pound fifty alone.

After this unsatisfactory meal, he browsed the shops that were open until he noticed a security guard trailing him warily. It had been hard enough explaining to Customs why he was arriving from Australia without luggage, so Kenny thought it best not to arouse any unnecessary suspicions. Not that he was up to anything suspicious. Kenny, being Kenny, simply didn't want to wake anyone unneccesarily and was killing time until the hour was a more respectable one for him to arrive in Norbridge.

Eventually, after spending so much time in the bathroom the cleaners were alarmed, he left the airport terminal and immediately wished he'd thought to buy a jumper during his browsing. A lightweight shirt, perfect for the mediterranean climate of Adelaide was no match for the icy wind that was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, he was back in England.

Shivering, Kenny climbed into the back of a thankfully warm cab. As they drove along deserted stretches of the M25 towards Norbridge, he formulated a rough sort of plan. He would visit home first, explain his sudden arrival to his parents somehow and make full use of their shower, kitchen and bedroom facilities. When he was feeling a little more human, he would ring Kelly and make sure she arrived home safely, then go and track down Lynda. He had to admit, he was looking forward to seeing the new Phoenix offices as well. And having a Winter Palace at Czar's, complete with bendy straw. Beyond that, he was unsure about what the future held.

By the time they got to Norbridge, the sun had struggled up and Kenny felt strange leaps in his stomach every time he saw something familiar. The train station, the high school, the Highpoint Flats – which some wag had rechristened Knifepoint while he had been away – the Gazette building . . .

"Just pull up here for a second, would you?" Kenny asked the driver.

The cab pulled up in front of Gazette House, still deserted at this early hour. Kenny climbed out and crossed the street to the vacant patch of land where the old Junior Gazette office had once stood. The only thing currently on the site was a large sign proclaiming "Coming Soon! Exciting New Retail Development! Another quality project by Campbell Inc. Leases Available."

It was hard to believe the building was gone, and with it, so many memories, thought Kenny, sadly.

"Hope you're not here because no-one gave you their forwarding address, Kenny."

Kenny spun in surprise to face the red-headed man who was leaning out of a BMW Z3i.

"Mr Kerr!"

Matt Kerr killed the engine of his car and got out. "Kenny, you can call me Matt now. You all can, yet none of you do."

"Old habits, I guess," grinned Kenny, shaking his hand. "Bit like coming back here for a look."

"Not much to see, I'm afraid," said Matt. "They bulldozed what was left of the building months ago and cleared the rubble pretty soon after. Bobby Campbell has been waiting on council approval for his development for months but somehow it keeps getting delayed." He shrugged but there was something about the smile on his face that suggested there was more to the story.

"Don't tell me," said Kenny, knowingly. "Someone keeps lodging objections against it?"

"Someone, yes. Well, a few someones. It seems there are a few concerned citizens who want the site to be rebuilt to house the new Junior Gazette, what with the proximity to the school and Gazette House."

"And you would be one of those concerned citizens?" asked Kenny.

"I would. As well as Mr Sullivan, Mr Winters, Mayor Swanson, Lynda Day . . . speaking of whom, Kenny, I spoke to Lynda only a few days ago and she didn't mention you were back in town."

"Ah. That would be because she doesn't know I'm here. I didn't even know I was here until a few hours ago!"

"I see. Something tells me it's rather an interesting story. Why don't you pay your driver and join me in a coffee? They do a decent latte down at the new Costa outlet in the High Street."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Only, Mr Kerr . . ."

"Yes, Kenny?"

"Would you mind if we went to Czar's instead?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Spike felt like he had only just got to sleep when Lynda's particularly strident alarm sounded.

"Lynda, why can't you ever set it to wake to music?" he groaned, flapping his hand randomly at the bedside table until the air-raid siren ceased. "That clock of yours is going to take ten years off my life. It's not right to be scared out of sleep every morning."

"I find it invigorating," said Lynda who was already sitting up and looking considerably more awake than her bedmate.

"I'm glad. You can be invigorated for both of us," Spike yawned and rubbed his eyes. "You're just lucky my face doesn't take as long to wake up as the rest of me."

"Says who?" asked Lynda. "You haven't seen a mirror yet."

"Ouch!" Spike clutched his heart in mock-pain. "You know, you're right. Do I have permission to use the bathroom and confirm my extraordinary beauty or will you require it for the full time allocated before we head off to your appointment?"

Lynda's face changed. "Right. The appointment. Can you believe it, after thinking about it all night, I'd actually forgotten for a minute?"

"Well, it's a good thing you've got me as your personal assistant. I even organised a taxi to come and pick us up."

"Spike, how is it you can be so remarkably efficient and yet still fail to submit 75 of your articles on time?"

Spike thought. "Well, when I'm writing my articles, I get distracted thinking of you. But when I have to organise things for you specifically, I'm already thinking of you, thus reducing my distraction time and improving my productivity. What do you think?"

"Amazing," replied Lynda dryly. "So if all your articles were about me, they'd be submitted on time?"

"If not early!" agreed Spike.

"Maybe we need to rethink your duties then."

"Ha ha. No, I'll be good. Promise."

After they showered and dressed, there was a beep out the front of the flat.

"That'll be the taxi," said Spike, standing.

"Actually, Spike – no offence, but I think I'd rather go alone. I won't run off . . ." she added hastily, seeing Spike's face, "But I just think us being in there together, people will just know . . ."

Spike sighed. "Lynda, if you really are pregnant, they're going to know sooner or later!"

"I know, I know," said Lynda. "But at this stage, I'd prefer later. Okay?" She leaned over and kissed him. "I'll see you soon."

Spike still looked unhappy about the situation but kissed her back.

"Can I walk you to the cab, at least?"

"You can, if you stop pouting," allowed Lynda. He escorted her through the hall and out the door to where the taxi was purring by the curb. Opening the back door, he ushered her inside.

"And you're sure you don't want me to come?" he asked again.

"I'm sure. But it doesn't mean I don't love you," replied Lynda, kissing him again.

"I love you too. Call me if you need me," Spike shut the door and patted the top of the cab as it drove off.

"I'll just wait here," he said pensively to the empty street.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

A shiny BMW Z3i pulled up outside Kenny's house.

"Thanks for the lift, Mr Kerr," said Kenny, climbing out of the passenger seat. "It's a great car. And thanks for the coffee too. Sorry it wasn't quite what you're used to. Czar has always been a bit creative when it came to coffee."

"My pleasure," replied Kerr. "And as far as the coffee goes, well, at least I can say I've now experienced a Ruskichino. It's not something I'm likely to forget."

"Most people say that about Czar's," mused Kenny. "Usually at half past three in the morning after an attempt at one of his pies!"

"I should be thankful for the warning you gave me," said Matt dryly. "Anyway, Kenny, I've got to get off to the Gazette. Duty calls and all that."

"Of course. Thanks again," replied Kenny and waved as Matt Kerr drove off with a customary squeal of tyres.

He turned to face his childhood home. Not much had changed. Plants in the garden had grown, and there was a new brass number by the door. He opened the gate, walked up the garden path and stepped over the crack in the pavers without even thinking about it. As he reached the door, he actually felt in his pocket for his keys before realising he had never even taken them on his trip to Australia. Shaking his head, he pressed the doorbell and waited. Footsteps came down the hall. He grinned. He could tell it was his mother, she still had the same slippers by the flup-flup sound of things.

"Who is it?" came the call from within.

"Special delivery!" replied Kenny. "From Australia!"

"Australia! Ooh, it's something from Kenny!" Liz Phillips slid back the deadbolt, opened the front door and shrieked.

"Hi Mum."

"Oh! Kenny! It IS Kenny! Oh, I can hardly believe my eyes!" She swept Kenny into a fierce hug and then held him out again for inspection. "You're so tanned and healthy looking! I can't believe it!"

Kenny laughed. "Did you think I'd just fade away without you to look after me?"

"Oh, that's not what I meant, dear! But what are you doing back here? You're not in trouble, are you?"

"Me? In trouble? Have you forgotten your only son?"

Liz laughed and shook her head. "Oh, don't mind me; I don't know what I'm saying! But where's all your luggage?"

"That might take some explaining," said Kenny. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh, of course you can! Come on. What am I thinking? You must be freezing standing out there with only a shirt on!"

"It is a little chilly," agreed Kenny and allowed his mum to pull him into the house and settle him at the familiar kitchen table.

"You sit right there. I'll just pop upstairs and get you your dressing gown."

"No, that's okay, Mum, I'll get it!"

"Nonsense! You'll be exhausted. Won't be a minute." She left the room and soon returned with Kenny's dressing gown. "There you are. You get into that. And here's your slippers."

"Thanks, Mum," said Kenny gratefully, shrugging into the comfortable warm robe and slipping his cold feet out of his work shoes and into the woolly slippers. Once he was rugged up to her approval, Liz nodded in satisfaction.

"Now, then. I'll put on some coffee and you can tell me everything," she said, beginning to fuss around the kitchen. Kenny grimaced.

"Er, Mum, could I have tea please? I've already had some coffee this morning. I've kind of lost the taste for it."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Spike spent an agonising and painfully slow hour waiting in Lynda's flat.

He skipped through almost all of the songs on his iPod, unable to find anything he wanted to listen to. He made himself some toast, took a bite out of a piece and left the rest on the plate to grow cold and stiff. He flipped through the pile of catalogues on the table, not taking in any of the bargains on offer and finally threw the lot in the bin.

"I'm goin' stir crazy in here!" he said aloud after drumming a relentless rhythm on the kitchen table. He checked his watch. "I'll just go for a quick walk around the block."

He snatched up his phone, keys and sunglasses and headed out the front, pulling the door shut behind him.

After his quick stride around the block, Spike was on the approach back to Lynda's flat when he noticed a taxi pulling away from the curb.

"Damn! She's back already and I wasn't there. You idiot!" he cursed himself and broke into a trot. The door was locked when he got to it.

"Lynda! Open up! I'm sorry, I just went for a walk to clear my head! Open up!"

Spike fumbled his key to the flat out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. "I'm coming in, okay?" he called and opened the door.

Inside, the flat was deserted.

"False alarm!" shouted Spike with relief, flopping onto the couch after poking his head into every room.

"Exactly," said Lynda, coming through the front door, eyes red and swollen from crying.

"What?" asked Spike, startled by her sudden appearance. In response, Lynda burst into fresh tears.

Spike thought to himself briefly he had never seen Lynda cry so much or as easily as in the last week or so. Must be a pregnant thing.

"Hey, Lynda! It's okay! We're in it together, we'll make it work. We'll have the coolest, funniest, smartest, best-looking kid in the world!"

Lynda sobbed harder. "Didn't you hear me? False alarm. I'm not pregnant."

Spike took a minute to process this information.

"But then – why are you so upset?" he asked gently. "I mean, you didn't really want to be, did you?"

"No! Yes! I don't know," sighed Lynda, wiping her eyes with her hands and sniffing. "After last night, I started thinking, maybe we could make it work. I could have done work from home or taken the baby into the office." She gave a watery smile. "They made my office soundproof, you know, so I could yell at people without disturbing the rest of the staff. Isn't that considerate?" She blew her nose loudly.

"I can see how it would come in handy," said Spike, rubbing her back.

"And I thought, a baby, a tiny little baby who needed me – us – well, it would be kind of nice. You could teach it sports and I could have read to it . . ."

"Lynda," said Spike seriously. "There's no reason why we can't have a baby together one day. At least now we can plan for it, be ready for it. We've got lots of time. Wouldn't you rather do it on your terms?" Lynda shrugged.

"Come on, now, this is me you're talking to. You like to do everything on your own terms!" Lynda smiled and nodded reluctantly.

"So how come you were being sick all the time?" Spike asked. "What's causing that?"

Lynda gave a small laugh. "Gastric ulcer."

"What? How?" Spike asked, worried.

"Stress. Not eating properly. Taking ibuprofen for my headaches on an empty stomach," said Lynda, a little guiltily.

"Lynda!" Spike was flabbergasted. "You have to take care of yourself better! You can't run on empty!"

"I know, I know," sighed Lynda. "I have to take these pills, eat properly, lay off spicy foods and fizzy drinks and reduce my stress levels."

"I'll see to that," muttered Spike, before a brainwave struck.

"You need a holiday!" he said suddenly.

"Spike, I can't take a holiday right now. The first edition . . ."

"Okay, after the first edition. The day after it hits the streets. Face it, Lynda, you haven't been on a holiday the whole time I've known you!"

"I have!" said Lynda indignantly.

"Lynda, you went to Surrey to track down possible links to gang crime in Norbridge. It doesn't count!"

"Well, what are you suggesting? Cornwall? Blackpool? Edinburgh?" Lynda asked.

"Actually," a grin crossed Spike's face. "Something a little more exotic."

"Where?"

"I'm going to take you home. To the States, I mean."

"I can't go to America!" said Lynda, amazed.

"Why not? You have a passport, don't you?"

"Of course I do. But . . . Spike, you can't afford it!"

"Sure I can. I haven't mentioned it but my Dad did leave me some money. A lot of money, actually. And his house in Santa Monica. What do you say, Boss? Want to bully some other poor Americans besides me?"

"I – I don't know what to say!" said Lynda, flustered.

"Say yes!"

She thought briefly. "Yes!"

"Great!" Spike hugged her in delight. "You leave everything up to me. The hardest decision you'll have to make is aisle or window."

"Sounds great," replied Lynda. Spike's face grew serious again.

"Actually, I'm lying. There is one other decision I'm going to ask you to make, Lynda. The thing is . . ." Spike looked uncharacteristically nervous and ran a hand through his hair. "I was going to ask you anyway, no matter what . . ."

"Spike . . ."

"Hang on, Lynda, I want to . . ." He fumbled in his pocket but it was too late. Lynda beat him to the punch.

"Will you marry me?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

That afternoon, after Kenny had enjoyed a nap in his old bed, the most refreshing shower ever and a change of clothes, he set off in the direction of the Phoenix offices.

Pushing open the frosted glass door, he was greeted with his second shriek of the morning and something small and blonde launching at him from behind a reception desk.

"Hi Sophie," he grinned, returning the hug.

"Kenny Phillips! What are you doing here? Are you back?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure on that," replied Kenny. "Just popped in for a visit, anyway."

Sophie detached herself.

"You look great. Really really great," she said warmly. "Do you know, I still have my Kenny Phillips - The Yummiest Man in Rock t-shirt?"

"You don't!" said Kenny in amazement.

"I do. I've just been waiting for you to get famous so I can sell it on eBay," she replied, grinning cheekily.

Kenny laughed. "You'll be waiting a long time yet. Is it okay if I just go in and say hello to the team?"

"Of course it is! I won't even make you wear a visitor's pass," said Sophie generously.

"Thanks, Sophie. We'll catch up later," he replied and entered the office. More squeals and shrieks greeted him.

"I feel like a rockstar!" said Kenny. "Again!"

His old friends from the Junior Gazette days surrounded him, firing questions and generally exclaiming over his tan.

Finally, after the commotion had died down and after promises to share stories about Australia at a later date, he found himself in Julie's office.

"I don't know how she does it, Kenny," said a frazzled Julie, sorting through piles of paper. "And frankly, I don't know how you did it, either!"

"Oh, you know," Kenny shrugged. "I just . . ." He broke off at the sound of commotion from the office floor.

"Now what?" asked Julie tiredly. "I swear, we've had about every distraction you can think of leading up to this new edition. The fire alarm went off yesterday . . ."

"It wasn't Spike again, was it?" Lynda asked from the doorway. Kenny spun around to face her and her eyes widened in shock.

"Kenny!"

"Lynda!" exclaimed Julie.

"Lynda!" exclaimed Kenny.

"Spike!" exclaimed Spike, joining in on the fun.

Julie recovered first. "Lynda, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be away for a few days."

"Well, I'm not. Not just yet, anyway. I'm not pregnant." She turned to face the rest of the staff who were watching eagerly and repeated herself. "I am not pregnant. Now do you have to be told to get back to work, or do I need to cancel Christmas?"

Lynda was back all right, with a vengeance. The Phoenix staff immediately put their heads down.

"The thing is, I have an ulcer and the doctor says it's partly to do with stress. So Spike and I will be going to America for a holiday. After the first edition."

Julie looked dismayed. "But Lynda, I can't manage without you here! It's too much work! Look at my face! I have bags!" She pointed. "And I'm not talking Louis Vuitton! I don't even have time to put make-up on in the morning. Well, not as much as I'd like."

Lynda looked at Kenny. "What are you doing back, Kenny?"

"Well, it's a long story, but I got your email and I was err – passing by and was wondering if I could help."

"You can. Fancy a temp position at the Phoenix?"

"Doing what?" he asked.

"Assistant Editor," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"Lynda!" said Julie, Kenny and Spike simultaneously.

"What am I supposed to do, fill in the black squares on the crossword?" asked Julie, hurt.

"You can't just kick Julie out of her job, Lynda," said Kenny. "It's not fair."

"Who said I was kicking her out?" asked Lynda. "I've been thinking about this for some time. I was going to make Julie head of Fashion and Beauty. I mean, look at her, she's certainly qualified."

Julie blushed. "Thank you, Lynda. I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"And let's face it, your spelling is atrocious and your grammar appalling," continued Lynda, briskly. "I really need someone who can write a sentence without having to Google words like 'philanthropist'. And for future reference, it doesn't start with an 'f'!"

"But Lynda, I don't know if I'm staying yet," Kenny said.

"I said temp, didn't I?" asked Lynda.

"I suppose so," agreed Kenny.

"Right! Well, you said you wanted to help. So help. You can start by giving Julie a hand to move down to her new office."

"Hang on, I haven't agreed yet!" Julie said.

"It's just down from the photography studio," continued Lynda as if she hadn't spoken. "Not as big as this one, granted, but it does have a view and plenty of make-up samples and free clothes inside."

"I agree!" said Julie hastily and began packing her things into a box.

"Good. I'm glad that's sorted. Kenny? Editorial meeting in half an hour. Spike, back to work!"

"Hang on, Lynda. Don't you have some other news you want to share?" Spike prompted.

"You're right, Spike. Actually, I've already announced it. By email."

"Announced what?" Kenny asked. Lynda smiled.

"Check your email!"

Kenny moved around to the computer on the desk and logged into Yahoo. Julie craned her neck to see.

_To: All Staff _

_From: Lynda Day_

_Subject: (none)_

_Importance: High_

_Dear Everyone_

_Spike and I are engaged._

_Now get back to work._

_Lynda_

_PS. I mean it!_

To Be Continued . . .


End file.
